w the story ends.'

The wanderer belongs to no frigate-building nation. He is a true
Fantaisian; who having, in his fright, during yesterday's storm, lost
the lock of hair which, in a moment of glorious favour, he had ravished
from his fair mistress's brow, is now, after a sleepless night, tracing
every remembered haunt of yesterday, with the fond hope of regaining
his most precious treasure. Ye Gentlemen of England, who live at home at
ease, know full well the anxiety and exertion, the days of management,
and the nights of meditation which the rape of a lock requires, and you
can consequently sympathize with the agitated feelings of the handsome
and the hapless Popanilla.

The favourite of all the women, the envy of all the men, Popanilla
passed a pleasant life. No one was a better judge of wine, no one had a
better taste for fruit, no one danced with more elegant vivacity, and no
one whispered compliments in a more meaning tone. His stories ever had
a point, his repartees were never ill-natured. What a pity that such an
amiable fellow should have got into such a scrape!

In spite of his grief, however, Popanilla soon found that the ardency of
his passion evaporated under a smoking sun; and, exhausted, he was
about to return home from his fruitless search, when his attention
was attracted by a singular appearance. He observed before him, on
the shore, a square and hitherto unseen form. He watched it for some
minutes, but it was motionless. He drew nearer, and observed it with
intense attention; but, if it were a being, it certainly was fast
asleep. He approached close to its side, but it neither moved nor
breathed. He applied his nose to the mysterious body, and the elegant
Fantaisian drew back immediately from a most villanous smell of pitch.
Not to excite too much, in this calm age, the reader's curiosity, let
him know at once that this strange substance was a sea-chest. Upon it
was marked, in large black letters, S. D. K. No. 1.

For the first time in his life Popanilla experienced a feeling of
overwhelming curiosity. His fatigue, his loss, the scorching hour, and
the possible danger were all forgotten in an indefinite feeling that the
body possessed contents more interesting than its unpromising exterior,
and in a resolute determination that the development of the mystery
should be reserved only for himself.

Although he felt assured that he must be unseen, he could not refrain
from throwing a rapid glance of